Strangers in a gay bar
by HappyValentina
Summary: Little one-shot inspired by "The first time". What happens in the bar after Blaine and Kurt leave? Sebastian has a plan. What does Karofsky have to do with it, tho? Rated T for themes.


_Little one-shot inspired by "The first time", which I hadn't gotten around to writing. What happens in the bar after Blaine and Kurt leave? Perhaps an indecent proposal takes place, we may never know. It's up to Ryan Murphy and his minions._

_But seriously, if Karofsky doesn't show up again for the rest of the season, then I'll be very disappointed. They've come up with a great character with great potential, they shouldn't just waste it like that. I'm keeping my fingers crossed._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. It belongs to Ryan Murphy, Brad Falchuk, the team of writers, and FOX._

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><p><span>Strangers in a gay bar<span>

by HappyValentina

"I know what you're thinking."

Dave set down his beer bottle and looked around for the source of the voice. The tall, lanky, preppy boy who had been dancing with Hummel's preppy boyfriend walked over and sat on the stool next to him.

"I'm sorry?" Dave asked, unsure if the guy was even talking to him. He had seen him in the bar a few times before, always on the prowl, but this is the first time they had spoken. He held no interest for Dave. Sure he was good-looking and all, but there was something about his face and the way he carried himself, that Dave didn't trust at all.

"I saw you talking to Blaine's boyfriend," the boy said. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. "You know, you could've been a bit more subtle."

Dave fixed him with his gaze and made a derisive noise with his throat.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, trying to sound more condescending and less annoyed than he managed in the end.

"The name is Sebastian Smythe," the boy replied, holding out his hand for Dave to shake.

Dave glanced at it and returned his attention to his beer. Sebastian lowered his hand, looking less than spited. "And you are?" he asked.

"Trying to have a nice evening, actually."

Sebastian half-laughed, taking a sip of his beer. "And is there any particular reason why you're still here, at three in the morning, _alone_?" he asked.

Dave's eyes narrowed as he looked around the half-empty bar, and the lonely couple swaying back and forth in the middle of the dance floor to a corny love song.

"I could ask you the same thing," he scoffed.

Sebastian smirked again, and it reminded Dave of an annoying cartoon animal.

"Or maybe you just don't want to go home..." Sebastian said. He spun on his stool, so that he could lean back against the bar, elbows propped up on the counter.

"Look, buddy, I don't know you, and I really just want to be alone right now. So could you-"

"I know about you, you know."

Dave blinked a few times. "What could you possibly know about me?"

"The Warblers talk, they're all good friends," Sebastian said, shrugging.

Dave avoided looking at him.

"I know all about the burly right guard in the McKinley Titans who harassed Hummel until he was forced to transfer to Dalton," Sebastian continued.

"We made amends," Dave answered, a little too quickly.

"And then you were elected junior prom king. And Hummel was voted prom queen. How appropriate. But instead of dancing with him, you ran out. Too many eyes on you, judging you, I would assume."

He was grateful the lights were so dim, because Dave felt his ears growing hot and red.

"And then you transferred to another school before the start of the year. I wonder why..."

Dave had to wonder how he knew that part.

"Were you afraid of something?"

"It's none of your business."

"It really isn't. But you asked what I knew."

The bartender walked past them, glancing at their yet-unfinished beers, and kept going. A guy dressed as Dolly Parton sauntered off with another guy dressed like Cher, both giggling like crazy.

Dave sighed. "What do you want, anyway?" he asked tiredly.

Sebastian made a long pause before he answered, like he was making sure Dave was paying attention.

"I was thinking of making you a proposition."

Dave grimaced. "Oh, really? Sorry, you're not my type," he said quickly.

Sebastian snorted and shook his head. "Please," he said smugly. "All right, think of it more as a... business plan. Where we both win."

Dave pretended he wasn't really listening.

"Considering the way you were looking at Kurt, I'm guessing you could benefit from it."

"What way?" Dave asked before he could stop himself. Sebastian grinned like a cheshire cat.

"Like you'd like to do to him exactly the same things I wish I could do to Blaine," he replied.

Gripping the beer bottle tightly, Dave took a long swig, anything to avoid looking at Sebastian, or acknowledging anything he was saying. Sebastian turned in his seat again, facing Dave fully.

"Here's the thing. Ever since I got into the Warblers, all I heard for a while was 'Blaine this' and 'Blaine that'. And then I saw him, and I heard him, and I had been so close to being in the same glee club as him, but then he transferred to be with his stupid boyfriend. Sorry, I mean, that guy you like."

"I don't like Ku-"

"Oh come on, you don't have to be so stoic with me. We're on the same team. In more ways than one, I might add," Sebastian laughed at his own stupid joke. Dave glared at him, and the other boy continued.

"Look, I don't know about you, but I usually don't have to try so hard to get laid. But this hurdle race kind of makes it all the more interesting. And I just know it's gonna be worth it."

Dave went back to pretending not to listen. Sebastian was just like a ridiculous soap opera villain, right down to his name and his clothes and his stupid hair.

"Maybe you haven't figured it out yet, but I have. I know what I want. And what I want is Blaine Anderson on any surface available," Sebastian said in a low voice. "And I _always_ get what I want."

Eyes fixed on the wall of glasses and liquor bottles, Dave felt his breathing speed up slightly. Because Sebastian's words had inevitably planted an image in his mind, of a fair-skinned boy lying on his back on what looked remarkably like the bar counter. He blinked the image away.

Sebastian smirked, like he knew what Dave had been thinking.

"And if you help me, I promise to help you get what _you_ want too," he added.

Dave shook his head.

"You don't have a clue of what I want."

"I have a pretty good idea, actually. Of what you've been wanting for a whole year."

Dave couldn't help the slight shock that crossed his face for one second, and that's all the confirmation that Sebastian needed. However, Dave immediately retreated into his usual sneer.

"Look, you don't know me, so don't pretend like you do. You've got the wrong person. I don't know what kind of plot you want to carry out, but I'm sure as hell not becoming a part of it. So leave me alone, or I'll bust your face open."

He was flaring up, like he used to. He didn't intend to, but everything about this pompous guy was making him furious. And he didn't need it now. Not tonight.

Sebastian didn't look intimidated at all. But he did back down, looking away, to avoid unnecessary confrontation.

"You've got some issues on you, don't you?" he asked.

"You don't know half of it," Dave murmured.

There was a stretch of silence, interspersed only by the music and sparse conversation of the few patrons left. Dave thought this was his moment to bolt from there.

Sebastian interrupted the silence with a loud, dramatic sigh, downing the rest of his beer, and plunked the now empty bottle onto the counter.

"Well, if you change your mind," he said. Pulling out a pen, he jotted his number quickly on a napkin and left it on the bar, along with some bills. "You let me know."

Dave didn't look at him again, and waited for him to leave. He snorted derisively and finished his beer, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sebastian exited the bar.

"Looks like you got lucky," the bartender said, nudging his head at the napkin. Dave was about to respond, but he stared at the phone number, thinking hard.

It was a long ten seconds before he pulled out his wallet, fished out a twenty and dropped it on the counter. Without thinking much anymore, maybe because of the beer and because he was tired and admittedly a little horny, he grabbed the napkin and stuffed it in his pocket quickly, along with his wallet.

"Not yet," he said, and turned to leave.

Maybe it was worth a shot. After all, what could he possibly have left to lose?

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><p><em>After I started this, and was looking for a decent title, I thought about that episode of Modern Family "Strangers in a treadmill", which references an Alfred Hitchcock movie, "Strangers in a train", which is about two men who meet in a train, both wanting to get rid of people in their lives, and one of them suggests that they each take care of the other's murder, because then no one will suspect. I haven't seen it, and obviously it doesn't go quite like this. But it did inspire the title. <em>

_Thanks for reading. Please review._

_-Valentina_


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